Defying Precedent
by KateEals
Summary: Jules never thought anything could be more stressful than planning her wedding to Sam or talking to her estranged father...until Team One was called in to try to help thwart a terrorist attack. Set in the Metaphysical Marathon 'world,' so, SEAN! JAM, Sean, and Sean-Jules humor. Also, Sean's there.
1. Frustration and Friendship

Defying Precedent

Chapter 1: Frustration and Friendship

**Author's Note: **So, here's a story I've been developing a bit for the last month. It exists in the "Metaphysical Marathon world" where, YAY, Sean exists. So, although it's certainly not necessary, you may want to read that one first if you have not already so that you can understand some of the jokes and references Sean and Jules make. It deals with the very delicate topic of terrorism, and there will be many references to 9/11 and 7/7 (that would be the precedent they're trying to defy), so if that is a trigger for you, you may not want to read this story. I would have had this up sooner, but my internet connection was out. You know, losing your internet connection is like losing your puppy to my ge-ge-ge-generation; I feel so much better now.

I don't own or have rights to Flashpoint, Shaft, Jameson or Powers Whiskey, Tim Horton's, Wheel of Fortune, Jeopardy, Star Trek, James Bond, _Jeffery_, The Little Mermaid, Angel Grove (Ek-HEMM), Nes-Quick, Desperate Housewives, or Sesame Street. Damn, Sean and Jules make A LOT of pop-culture references…

**Reminders (and inside jokes): **Sean has gone through training and is now an EMT;Sean has 'two pet' Chia-pets, Elvis and Buddy; Jules teases Sean that he's going to marry Carly (with a 'C' (!)) and that their wedding will have a Little Mermaid theme.

The Flashpoint

After taking off his now bloody surgical gloves, Sean aimed his flashlight around to view the surrounding area more thoroughly. His breath caught as his beam of light touched on an object that sent waves of the panic he had mostly been over in the past few of months coursing through his body.

"Uhh, Jules…" he called out.

"Sean, if you've managed to make a snow angel in the rubble, I'm really not interested now."

"Nothing angelic at all…"

Jules sighed and cast her eyes in the direction of Sean's light. "Oh, you've GOT to be kidding me…" she whispered to the surrounding, debris filled air.

She picked up Sean's emergency radio. "Boss," she began in a steady voice. "Confirmation that this building is the primary target…"

A Few Days Earlier

Jules sighed as she stared down at the dizzying array of table settings she would have to pick from for her upcoming wedding. Sam looked over from the piece of cake he was sampling to smile at her and plant a nice, big chocolate icing covered kiss on her cheek. "Uhhg, Sam!" she shouted his name like it was a curse.

Sam laughed at both her disgruntlement over wedding planning and over his playfully childish act of 'decorating' her face with cake toppings. "Come over here, Sweetheart; I'll lick it off. It'll be twice as sweet that way…"

Jules simply narrowed her eyes at him before she returned to her task of picking out miniscule accoutrements she'd never thought twice about in her normal life. "Get that tongue anywhere near me and I will twist it into a knot. You won't be whistling while you work for a while, buddy," she said with her eyes still cast down upon the samples in front of her while wiping her cheek with a sample 'huckleberry-plum' napkin.

Sam scoffed and said, "Hmmph, you never had a problem with my tongue when strawberries and cream were involved," under his breath.

"OH MY GOD, DUDE! I'M STILL FREAK'N HERE!" Sean shouted through a wretch from his place across the table from Jules.

Jules snorted. She had to admit making Sean feel uncomfortable was always a fun form of entertainment.

Turning her attention back fully to the line of sample silver wear in front of her, she grumbled and shouted incoherent obscenities. "ARRRGGG! Who knew negotiating a schizophrenic in a nut-house would be easier than planning a frig'n wedding!" She looked up at Sam with pleading eyes. "Why can't we just elope? I hear Las Vegas has really pretty lights this time of year."

Sam looked up at his fiancé's haggard expression and stress lined face and shook his head. "No, Jules. We are not leaving the country to go to some hoochy-mamma establishment to be married by a Shaft impersonator."

Jules rolled her eyes, giving them a workout after staring at samples for so long. She was sure the circular motion was better for them than the cross-eyed expression she'd been wearing for the majority of the last hour. "Why does a traditional marriage ceremony mean so much to you anyway, Sam? I thought you'd be down with the idea of quick nuptials," she argued.

Sam faux huffed and delicately wiped a spot of icing from the corner of his mouth. "Because, Jules, just like every young boy, I always used to imagine my perfect wedding in my playhouse when I was growing-up," he claimed with his head held high.

As Sean snorted a piece of sample chicken half-way across the room, Jules smiled brightly and tilted her head to the side. "Oh my God, Sam. This engagement is teaching me so much about you. I had NO IDEA you were gay," she said in a higher pitched voice than normal to signify her jest.

Sean chuckled and spoke through a mouth full of chicken cordon bleu. "Ya could'a had Steve," her gurgled out.

All thoughts of playful banter immediately left Sam's face as he grumbled and seethed.

Jules smiled at his reaction and leaned over to place a chaste kiss on his temple. "Good to know my options are open."

Sam narrowed his eyes in anger before reaching out to hug Jules closer to him so as to physically claim her in some manner. "Besides, don't you want to look all pretty for our friends?" he asked as if he was attempting to change the subject away from the direction of Jules' ex-boyfriend and close high school friend.

Jules scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Sam, our friends are sweat-hogs. They'd be perfectly happy with Father Joe Flynn performing the ceremony over a Jameson Whiskey at the Goose."

"Hey!" Sean shouted in a mock argumentative tone. "I resent that (!). He's (somehow by the grace of God) a Mon Senior and he drinks Powers (!)."

Jules fought to hide her chuckle. "I concede to your point."

Sam ignored Sean's quip and grumbled disgruntledly at Jules' lack of enthusiasm as he pulled her even closer to his side.

As he pulled her in, he glanced down at his watch and caught site of the time. His eyes grew wide in realization of how late it was. "Whoa, I'm gonna be late for that TL meeting with Ed at Timmy's." He placed a kiss on Jules lips before rising to grab his keys. "See ya later, O'Brian," he fist-bumped Sean then turned to Jules. "Love you," he said as parting words, but then added, "Call your father," over his shoulder as he whipped through the open door.

Jules sighed again.

Sean raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Well, Callaghan, it's good to see you're marrying a guy who isn't too cryptic," he voiced with his signature irony. "Maybe he's training you to solve puzzles on Wheel of Fortune so that you can win your millions and retire from this life of crime."

Jules blew out a breath. "No, not really that cryptic," she said evasively. "And by the way, I'm marrying Sam, not a senior citizen." She held Sean's gaze with a flat, straight expression for a beat before continuing. "And we plan on making our millions on Celebrity Jeopardy. Chevy Chase isn't as smart as he thinks he is."

"I see absolutely no flaws in that plan what-so-ever," Sean replied with a mirrored, straight wit expression.

A beat passed where Sean and Jules shared a familiar chuckle before Sean queried, "Is your father actually Q?" out of the seeming blue.

Jules tilted her head and made an affected line of her mouth. "That depends. Do you mean Bond or Star Trek?"

"Well, you know, ever since _Jeffery_ I have had a thing for Patrick Stewart," Sean responded, but failed at keeping a grin off his face.

He knew there was a reason why Sam would be demanding that Jules call her father, but he was hoping she'd tell him freely without too much coaxing on his part. That was just how their relationship worked. They'd been through the fire of PTSD together and were comfortable enough with each other to voice any problems or concerns they had, albeit, usually in a very sarcastic manner.

Jules sighed and shook her head. She knew what Sean was dancing around. "I haven't really talked to my Dad in about 10 years," she reveled without a hint of irony.

Sean puckered his lips and brought steepled hands to his mouth. "Well now, Constable, that's not something you shared in group Kumbaya." He was referring to their group therapy sessions at PTSD rehab. "And you just KNOW Carly (With a 'C' *Sean fake smiles*) would have had brilliant insight into that one, most likely in relation to her yorkie-poos."

Jules snorted. "She has cocker spaniels, lover boy. And by the way, I need to see the color of the vest for your wedding so that I can coordinate my dress with it. I'm already memorizing all of the songs Ariel sings."

Sean huffed and dramatically threw his hands on his hips like the diva he sometimes pretended to be. "I'll share if you share."

Jules rolled her eyes and sucked in a breath. "That fell into the 'I don't talk about my past' clause. It wasn't pertinent to me being Post Traumatically Stressed. In fact," she paused to twitch her head at a thought and scoff through smiling lips, "I'm pretty sure not talking to my Dad staved off me actually getting PTSD for a few years…" She trailed off her words, lost in thought.

Sean raised an eyebrow at her, got lost in his own thoughts, and flattened his mouth and shook his head. "You're getting Sarge to walk you down the aisle because Q is too busy either making super secrete gadgets to help save The Crown, or detained while he annoys a bald British guy."

Jules moved her pointer finger in a quick rhythm between her head and Sean's as she shook her head in apparent disbelief. "I tell you, O'Brian, one brain, man, one brain."

Sean nodded his head at her gesture with a knowing look, but soon a laugh cracked through his efforts to remain serious.

"Oh, and speaking of the fact that you're my best girlfriend," Jules began without a beat to let Sean recover from such an odd and incongruent declaration. She smiled and tilted her head like a valley girl from Angel Grove. "You still haven't signed-up for a dress fitting as my Maid of Honor (!)". She shook her hands at him as if she was just TOO exasperated by this oversight.

Sean sighed heavily and shook his head with an open mouthed frown as his eyes looked up to the ceiling. "Jeeeweellllsss, I told you I can't wear a dress to your wedding until after my pregnancy (!). Those seam lines are just gonna hug me in ALL the wrong places (!)."

Jules nodded knowingly. "Yeah, I was afraid about that." She sighed. "Well, it's a good thing I have Nat to take one for the team and stand in for you. You and the baby will be in our hearts the whole time," she said while nodding her head.

She paused her motion while a pure, true, thoughtful look lit her face. "Actually, I'm pretty sure Natalie would make Sam break off the engagement if I didn't have her as the MoHo…" she trailed off.

Sean scoffed. "God, she's more high maintenance than a PTSD sniper."

"Ha-ha-ha," Jules voiced with a dark grin before a devilish glint lit her eyes. "Speaking of Nat, I've seen you eyeing her…" Her eyes sparkled as her grin deepened. "You ask her out on an awkward first date yet?"

Sean shrugged. "Nahh. Every time I have a chance, your friend Spike is around and growls at me," he replied with evident, true confusion.

"Yeah," Jules nodded knowingly, then returned Sean's shrug. "The rabies shot didn't take."

Sean looked down at his own watched and winced. "AHHHhhh! I hate having third shift," he grumbled darkly.

"It's been figuratively sweet, Callaghan, but I gotta work in the middle of the night. I'm gonna go home, make some Nes-Quick, snuggle with Elvis and Buddy in front of Desperate Housewives, and grab a nap," he declared, trying once more to hide a sardonic smile.

"Yeah," Jules began in a normal tone before adding, "Lucky bastard," under her breath. Returning to her normal communicative tone, she continued, "You go home to sleep and save the world in a few hours while I'm stuck here looking at," she paused to shudder, "wedding dress catalogues."

Sean chuckled at her disconcerted look of dread as he walked forward to give her a half hug and place a friendly kiss on her cheek. "Oh how the mighty have fallen," he said with a smirk.

Jules narrowed her eyes and looked like she was on the verge of giving him the finger. Instead, she smiled slightly, even through narrowed eyes. "Later, Sean."

Sean jutted his chin out to her on his way out the door. "And call Q. Sesame Street taught me that it's a pretty sweet letter in the alphabet…" he said with a slight laugh as the door closed behind him.

Jules sighed to herself. Both her fiancé and best friend were encouraging her to call her estranged father.

She guessed she was calling her estranged father…

What in the world could be harder than that?

**Additional Author's Note: **Yay, Witty Jules! I'm so happy to be writing her and Sean again. Comatose Jules just isn't as lively for some reason…Of course she would fall to her knees in defeat at, dun dun dahhh, wedding planning.

**Please leave a review** and let me know what you think of this story so far.

Thanks for reading,

Eals


	2. Perestroika

**Author's Note: **Hey guys! Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, and even already began to favorite or follow this story so far. Glad you liked the return of wit after so much angst from me…I personally loved the "Wow, she's more high maintenance than a PTSD sniper line." Hehe, oh Sean. Anyway, I have so much of this story mapped-out, I really wanted to get more into it. Just two notes, because I know some people are gonna go "Whaaaa?" when they read it. Perestroika was the name given to the USSR's restructuring policies of the 80's, which was one of the factors that lead to the end of the Cold War. And the name I gave Jules' dad is pronounced "KEER-an." I always loved that name for some reason…

I don't own or have rights to Flashpoint or Tim Horton's.

Defying Precedent

Chapter 2: Perestroika

After feeling like she was living through a white-out snow storm from only looking at the series of wedding dress catalogues, which Natalie had left for her a mere 2 hours after Sam and Jules gave her the news of their engagement, for a half an hour, Jules gave up and sat on her couch with her phone in her hands. She stared at the digits as she contemplated the years' overdue action she was about take. She sighed to herself then chuckled at the irony of the whole situation. She hadn't literally talked to her father for about 10 years, yet she was ready to do so today as a form of procrastination to avoid getting back into the details of planning her wedding. Maybe if she made this call and forged some semblance of reconciliation with her father she could convince Sam to let Nat plan the whole thing on her own like both she and Jules wanted. Sam was loath to allow is often over-bearing sister to take the reins of planning his impending nuptials, but maybe he'd make a concession if Jules worked to get the father of the bride to attend.

She looked at the phone one last time before she placed it on the coffee table, got up, and walked to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine. She wasn't usually one to use the processed grapes of wrath for a crutch, but she also wasn't usually one to cower at the thought of potential confrontation. She was a police negotiator for crying out loud. She sought out confrontation, but always as a means to resolve a dangerous and difficult situation peacefully. Whenever she imagined her last real conversation with her Dad, she could never place any level of peacefulness to it in any way, shape, manner, or form.

It wasn't that she was completely cut-off from her father. They still sent each other Christmas and birthday cards. Jules even splurged in this limited form of communication and sent her father a Saint Patty's Day card every year; she always made sure these cards were traditional with at least a few words in Gaelic as opposed to the ones with 'that Americanized drunkard crap' he would always complain about when she was growing up.

This was the extent of their recent relationship, partially because of the career choices she had made, but mostly because of the last conversation they'd had concerning the subject.

As she slowly sipped her wine, she contemplated how the current state of their relationship had come about.

Ciaran Callaghan was always a very strong-willed man, and thus inadvertently (both through nature and nurture) raised his four sons and one daughter to be just as strong-willed. He was not pleased when his youngest child and only daughter informed him after she graduated from college that she had been accepted into the Royal Canadian Mounted Police Academy, but he accepted this decision with time and not just a little bit of prayer and reassurances from her that the job was relatively safe with all the training they had. He continued to have Sunday phone conversations with her every week just as they'd had while she was in college. The fact that she barely talked about her job, which made it seem as if everything was so routine it was almost boring, had always given him peace of mind.

But when his little Julianna called him one week to inform him that she was transferring to the Toronto Metropolitan Police Department to join the Strategic Response Unit, he'd felt like a camel with one too many straws on his back. He'd yelled at her and accused her of having foolish bravado, told her her job was dangerous enough and that she didn't need to compound that danger by joining a SWAT team and go looking for trouble. She'd yelled right back at him, blew-up in a psychotic episode of temper as fierce as his, told him he'd always raised her to stand-up for the struggling, help those in their time of need. She'd reminded him that he was, after all, the one who'd been a cop and taught her how to shoot so well, inspired her to want to protect and serve the people in her community. He'd yelled back that the operant words were 'had been a cop,' that he left the force when he realized it was simply too dangerous, that it wasn't worth risking his life, and most importantly, ability to take care of his family for some amorphous noble goal. She'd barely whispered back that someone had to take that danger upon their shoulders; someone had to take the risk to make sure everyone else could have safe, and yes, cushy lives. She'd hung-up the phone and never picked it up to dial him again since. She'd followed the course of her heritage and held a grudge against her father for his pig-headedness and paternalistic attitude, allowed the cold war to exist between them with minimal contact.

Today, nagging from both her fiancé and her best friend, with just a little nudge from the stress wedding planning was placing on her, had her prepared to end that limited form of communication.

She took the last sip of wine from her glass, refilled it, and went to return to the couch. She took a deep breath, blew it out sharply, and then picked up the phone off her coffee table.

She stared at the digits on the electronic number pad and thought how she would have to physically dial his number, a number she still knew by heart because it was the first number she ever memorized, the number that until about 10 years ago had signified 'home' to her. She thought how sad it was that the last conversation she'd had with her father, her own personal declaration of independence, had erased that title of the residence from her mind. She thought how sad it was that she didn't even have it programed into her phone.

She continued to sit with the phone in her hands, staring down at the electronic digits.

What was she afraid of?

She thought how she routinely stepped, un-armed, into the line of fire of terribly distraught people who felt like they had nothing to lose to help them out of making the biggest mistakes of their lives with nothing but simple words, but how when it came to her own father, her voice fell silent. She thought how pathetic it was to be unafraid of a bullet to her Kevlar vest (well, the non-armor piercing kind), but to fear dialing a number so well remembered her fingers moved automatically over the key-pad.

With one final deep breath, in, and out, one final sip of wine, Jules dialed in the number and brought the phone to her ear to listen to it ring. It was just after 7pm in Ontario, so it would be around 5pm in Medicine Hat; her father would have just gotten in from finishing his final chores of his day on the farm.

Three rings, four rings-Jules was beginning to breathe a sigh of relief-five rings, si—

"Hello," a thick Albertan accent with a slight twinge of brogue answered.

"Heyyy, Dad," Jules answered.

"Julianna?" Ciaran Callaghan asked with a questioning voice. Jules could imagine him thinking how this was probably either a prank call or wrong number. Surely some poor girl who actually cared enough to heed her father's wishes and stay in contact with him had made a slip of her hand while dialing.

"Heh, yeah," Jules replied. Wow, she was really taking the bull by the horns in THIS conversation (!).

"Oh," her father paused for a beat, confusion lining the simple two letter word. "Hi, darl'n. How've you been?" he repeated the same line he used to use at the beginning of their conversations every Sunday.

Jules had no idea how she was supposed to respond to this question. After sucking in a breath, she surprised herself by blurting out, "Well, since I last talked to you, I've jumped off a media tower to save a girl from falling, been shot, became a negotiator in addition to being a sniper, dated Steve Morgan, was awarded Law Enforcement Professional of the Year, nearly bled to death from a severed artery in my dominate arm while being infected with anthrax, and spent three weeks in a mental institution on suicide watch with severe PTSD." She paused to take a breath before adding, "And Ed swears I almost fell off a cliff once, but I just think he's being dramatic."

She felt the urge to smack herself on the forehead. Those were the first freaking words she thought of to say to her father after he'd been estranged from her for 10 years, a good fraction of the reason why being how dangerous her job was! She thought how if Sean was here and listening to this conversation he'd probably take back the title of Wordsmith he'd awarded her on several occasions.

Ciaran remained silent on the other side of the line, seeming to contemplate her words, before replying, "You're still only five foot, two, right?" with the same patented sarcastic tone Jules herself was so used to using on a daily basis. She rolled her eyes at the memory that her father was as much of a wise-ass as she was…actually, she thought how that was probably WHY she herself was such a wise-ass…

Mostly she was somewhat glad he had responded in this manner. It signified to her that he was as uninterested in talking about the reasons for their mutual radio silence as she was. He was resorting to the common family trait of believing that if one just ignored a situation or event, it didn't exist. Of course this wouldn't heal any of the scars in their relationship, especially because the two separate parties were blatantly aware of the facts and their own feelings towards them, but it wouldn't make the situation any worse either. Jules took it as a bit of a victory that they had gotten beyond their initial exchange of words and was glad her Dad wouldn't press the points of their separation.

Ignoring her father's snide remark, Jules continued. "Anyway, I'm calling because, well actually, I'm engaged." She found herself biting her bottom lip in an uncharacteristic manner as she waited for his reaction to this intelligence. _Way to go, Callaghan_, she thought to herself. _Way to not drop too big of a bomb on your Dad the first time you actually talk to him in 10 years_…

"To be married or in the process of taking out enemy combatants?" Ciaran quipped back quickly.

Jules laughed and was surprised to find herself smiling. "Hmm, the latter does sound much more my speed. Touché, Dad." She had to admit she was glad her father still sounded just as quick witted as ever. "But, really, Dad." She blew out a breath. "I'mmm getting married," she said in a cheerful tone, hoping it would convince him of her seriousness.

"Huh," was Ciaran's only response.

Jules found herself rolling her eyes again.

"I'd say congratulations, but…" Ciaran seethed a little. "Well, I don't know the man, darl'n."

Jules smacked herself in the forehead. Of course her traditional father would be peeved about not meeting and evaluating his only daughter's fiancé. "Well, he's a cop like me. We actually work together, actually," she said redundant, redundantly a little flustered, in a redundant manner. "Why don't you come out here and meet him, Pop," she found herself saying. "We have a few days off after our shift tomorrow. It'd be a perfect time." Jules sincerely hoped Sam, after pushing her to call her estranged father, wouldn't mind if the man came over to visit on short notice…

"Well, Julianna, I think I might just do that." He paused for a moment before continuing. "I'd love to meet the sniveling little speck of pond scum who thinks he can ask my only daughter to marry him without my permission…" he said darkly.

Jules rolled her eyes and sighed. Of course the only thing he would find worse than his youngest child ignoring his wishes would be her fiancé asking for her hand without his approval. "Dad. He's armed," she warned sardonically, punctuating her words with a chuckle.

"I wonder if my old service badge will work to get my shot-gun through security," he replied slightly under his breath, but still sarcastically.

"Dad, I'm armed," she warned further, failing to keep the laughter out of her voice. "And lest you forget, you were the one who taught me how to shoot."

"Yeeeeesss," he drew the word out. "I am an excellent shot and not a bad teacher…"

Jules took another sip of wine as she shook her head at her father's mock lack of humility. "Just send me an email with your flight details, and I'll pick you up from the airport. I left my email address at the end of my last Christmas card."

"Will do, little one." Jules raised her eyes in weariness to her father's old moniker for her. "It'll be good to see you again, Jules," he finished with what Jules could tell was a smile.

"See ya soon, Dad," Jules signed off.

Bringing her wine glass up to kill the last few sips of her second serving, she sighed in relief. That conversation went better than she had expected. Although, she mentally kicked herself, she never intended him to actually come out and see her. Especially not in such a short time.

She knew they would still have to discuss the reasons behind their long separation. It was a conversation she'd been dreading for the 10 years of restricted contact she'd had with her father. But, if going through her whole experience with PTSD had taught her anything, it was that it was best not to simply bottle things up or sweep them under the rug. Some things just had to be talked about or they would fester until they blew-up into outcomes far worse than warranted.

As she thought about this dreaded conversation, she heard the front door open and Sam whistling through it. _Great_, she thought. _He's high on Timmy's again_…

"Heyyyy," Sam drew-out in contentment as he leaned over the back of the couch to hug Jules from behind. Placing a kiss her temple, he asked, "How's the planning going?"

Jules reached back to place her hand on the side of his face. "It's not..."

"Grrhhmmm," Sam grumbled out before jumping over the back of the couch to sit next to her and pull her to his side. Catching sight of the empty wine glass in front of her, he softened tremendously. "That bad, eh?"

"You could say that," Jules replied evasively. She turned towards him and placed a hand on his jittery, caffeine filed knee. "I called my Dad." Before Sam had a chance to respond to this, she continued, "And he's coming in to meet you after our shift tomorrow or the next day."

Sam immediately stopped fidgeting while his eyes grew wide. "So soon?" he asked in surprised apprehension and with a high pitched voice. The thought that he'd never met Jules' father and wouldn't really have any time to prepare to meet him now dawned on him. Remembering the gaff of a first impression he'd made on Jules, he was terrified about the poor first impression he might make on her father.

Jules playfully lightly slapped the side of his face. Keeping her hand where it had made contact, she drew his face to hers to kiss him. "Hey, Champ," she began as she pulled away. "You were the one who wanted me to call him." Oh, he was certainly in for it when Ciaran Callaghan got there.

Taking an extra second to savor the surprised and nervous look on his face, she patted his knee and rose to head up to change into her pajamas and get ready for bed on account of their early shift the next morning.

"Wait, Jules!" Sam called after her. "That's not much time! What should I do to prepare?" he asked anxiously.

Jules paused at the point of the stairs right before she would be out of his sight and leaned down to answer, "Clean your gun," before laughing hysterically at his flustered reaction and continuing up the stairs.

"No, Jules, really!" Sam answered as he jumped up on hyper legs and ran to follow her up the stairs. "What should I REALLY DO?"

**Additional Author's Note: **I'm going to have so much devilish fun with Jules' dad terrorizing Sam, hahaha *evil grin*. Funny how this chapter, in which Jules calls her father as a form of procrastination, is a form of my own procrastination. I really need to start filling out that background check packet, aka, tome…You should see the list of drugs they ask you if you've ever taken; I've never even heard of half these things, and I've studied the effects of drugs on the brain! I have no street cred…

**Please leave a review** and tell me what you think of this chapter. We're not into the meet of the story yet, but it's gonna be GRRRRREEEAATT! Like Tony the Tiger : )

Cheers,

Eals


	3. Popping the Question

**Author's Note: **Hey all! Thanks to all, as always, who have been reading, Reviewing, following, and what-not this story. You make my creativity seem worth wild : ). I'm glad so many of you are having as much fun with it as I am : ). I've been having SO much fun with it, that I sort'a can't stop writing it (to the great dismay of my other stories and their fans…oopps, sorry, guys. I'll get to them soon…). Anyho, I wrote this last night and figured I'd wait a while to post it. It's been a while. If you've never heard "The Same Old Shillelagh," youtube it. It's such a catchy song. Ahhh, my childhood…I personally love this chapter, and hope you do too!

I don't own or have rights to Flashpoint, or anything else that might be copyrighted, cause, seriously, I can't remember if I used anything else right now…*shrugs*

Defying Precedent

Chapter 3: Popping the Question

The next morning (after Jules woke up, but had to literally claw her way out of Sam's arms as he whimpered in his sleep, "Not the shillelagh!"), Jules found herself whistling "It's the Same Old Shillelagh" song as she drove herself and Sam to work, smirking at the irony of the fact that one of the lines in the song is about the guy joining the police force, and instead of having one night stick, having two. Sam's eye non-consciously twitched slightly every time she whistled the refrain, but he had no idea why…Jules found his reaction just _oh so_ cute and made sure to kiss the corner of his recently twitching eye when they were stopped at a traffic light.

Actually, she found his reaction to the entire situation of her father coming for a visit cute. She knew he actually had nothing really to fear, that her father would simply make cryptic and frightening comments and questions meant only to terrify Sam, but not out of any maliciousness. She knew her father would just be working to get a reaction out of the man who loved his daughter, mostly because he would find it funny. It was the playful psychological warfare of their people. Those in the know, like Jules herself, would find the whole thing hilarious. Jules was looking forward to the show the two men would put on, but was still prepared to step in if Ciaran Callaghan went too far.

She also knew that if she was being completely honest with herself she would know that one of the main reasons she was looking forward to her father's playful toying with Sam was that it would distract him from the issues he had with her. After singing out, rather than whistling, the last words, "he brought from III-EERRR-LAAAAnnnnd,"as she parked in the SRU lot (and subsequently chuckling at Sam's resulting strongest non-conscious eye twitch yet), she became serious and thoughtful and resolved to make sure she had the discussion she needed to have with her dad sooner rather than later. She hoped the time, distance, and shielding they'd both had would help them remain civil and able to come to an understanding of their differences of opinion.

"Last day," Jules said cheerfully as she exited the car and began to walk towards the building with Sam.

"What!" Sam shouted in his distracted and apt to misunderstand state. "Oh, yeah, yeah, last day of work," he forced a smile to his face as he came out of his abstraction.

Cute was cute, but enough was enough.

Jules sighed and stopped Sam right outside the door to headquarters. "Sam. You have nothing to be afraid of." She rose on her tip-toes to plant a kiss on his nose. "My Dad may play around with you like a cat with a mouse for a while, but it'll just be a sort of initiation type thing." She rose again, but this time to plant the kiss on his lips. "It won't take him long to love you like I do," she promised softly.

Sam chuckled, closed his eyes, and laid his forehead against hers. He brought his hand up to lay against the side of her face. "Well, I hope he doesn't love me EXACTLY like you love me."

Jules snorted. "Yeah. That would just be awkward," she replied before accepting one last kiss before work from him.

"Hey, lovebirds!" They both simultaneously frowned as they heard Ed shout from behind them. "Break it up, or get a room!"

Jules sucked in and let out a breath as she opened her eyes and broke apart from Sam. "Go find a peep-show and leave us alone, Ed," Jules retorted with a smirk. Sam coughed out a laugh at her boldness.

"Just say'n. A little professionalism here?" Ed responded with a mock admonishing look.

"Oh, this is completely professionally related. I'm give'n Sam a pep-talk. Help'n him be able to focus on his work."

"Really, Jules?" Ed asked with his lower lip jutting out. "This is gonna help him focus on his work?"

"Papa Callaghan is flying in to meet me tonight…and he can shoot…" Sam trailed off with a dejected look.

Ed looked to Jules who nodded with a knowing look and shrugged, then eyed Sam's deflated form up and down. "He got 'the same old shillelagh,' Jules?" Ed asked with a straight face.

When Jules busted out a laugh, Ed could contain his mirth no longer and gave into it as well. "Good luck with that, Sammo," he patted Sam on the back. "Carry-on, Constable Callaghan," he said as he walked in the door with a smile.

Sam frowned, then narrowed his eyes at Jules.

Jules kissed him one more time, then brought her hand to his face. "Ed's just teasing. Just like my Dad will. You'll be fine," she promised him with a smile. "Now let's go before we repeat the same thing with Commander Holleran…I swear that man secretly loves to pull your chain…"

When they got to the SRU floor, Jules squeezed Sam's hand in one last act of reassurance before he would meet her father and peeled off to change into her uniform.

Immerging from her locker room a short time later, she simply waved to her teammates who were congregated around Winnie at her central desk and continued to walk towards where Greg would predictably be hard at work in 'his office,' or rather, the conference room.

Spotting Greg inside, she knocked on the outside wall as a formality while saying, "Hey, Sarge. Got a minute?"

Greg looked-up at her and smiled. "For you, Officer Callaghan, I've got three."

Jules chuckled and squeezed his shoulder in thanks as she sat down. In response to anyone else, Greg would have said, 'for you, I've got two.' This blatant example of the special bond she had with him only worked to further illuminate and validate the action she was about to request of him.

"Thanks, Boss," she said, but found herself at a loss of words to continue.

Greg smiled and raised his eyebrows at her. "Everything okay, Jules," he asked only marginally succeeding at hiding his concern. Ever since her little hick-up with Post Traumatic Stress and all that it entailed, he had been hyper attentive to make sure she didn't lapse back into any of its symptoms.

Jules smiled and nodded her head, completely aware of where his thoughts had taken him. "Yeah. I just, ahh," she shook her had a little as she changed the track of the question she was about to ask. "My Dad's flying in for a visit tonight. Plane gets in at five, we don't get off 'till six," she said leveling her hands in front of him. "Just wondering if I could cut-out early to pick him up if we're not on a call."

Greg nodded and grinned his consent. "Sure thing, Jules. Not a problem at all."

He looked more deeply into her slightly downcast eyes. "Wow, that's big news. Haven't seen him for a while, right?" he began to profile her in case he would have to negotiate her in some manner in the next couple of days in relation to this matter.

"Yeah." Jules looked up, flicking her eyebrows at Greg with a flat smile. "Just about 10 years…"

"You alright with that?" Greg asked with fatherly concern.

Jules looked up at the ceiling and smiled after she thought about his question truthfully for a second. "Yeah, actually, Boss. Yeah, I think it should be good." A light laugh left her lips. "We've got some things to work out, and I think it'll be good to do that."

Greg nodded and continued to smile encouragingly at her. "Good. That's real good, Jules. I'm glad you're finally gonna get that chance."

"Yeah," Jules returned his nod. This entire conversation had her once again thinking about how Sean should revoke her title of Wordsmith.

"Jules," Greg reached out his hand to grab her shoulder in reassurance or comfort, whichever she might need at the moment. "You know I'm here if you need anything, or things don't go as great as you want them to with your father."

Jules patted his hand on her shoulder and grinned. "Thanks, Boss, but I really do think things will be alright. Umm," she paused to gather her thoughts for a second. "Tell'n you about my Dad and ask'n if I can leave early to pick him up wasn't the main thing I wanted to ask you about though."

Greg frowned slightly in confusion. "Oh?" he coaxed her to elaborate. He was keeping completely focused on his younger counterpart, looking for any signs of distress. He wasn't used to hearing her struggling to find words.

"Yeah, Sarge, umm." She blushed a little and looked away from him for a moment. "It's great that I'm getting back in touch with my Dad and everything, but, ahh, our relationship is still strained." She sighed. "And I know it's gonna be strained for a while as we get to know each other again. Things just don't magically go back to the way they were, especially when people grow and change with time and experience, ya know?" She looked back up at Greg as she asked this question.

Greg nodded and focused on Jules' eyes. "Yeah, Jules. Yeah, that's true."

Jules smiled again and looked straight on at her boss, teacher, confidant in many ways, frequent work partner, friend, and father figure. "What I'm trying to say is, you've been a father to me more in these past 10 years than the man I share a name with has. You've taught me so much, always been there for me, always looked out for me, always watched over me." She paused and smiled to allow for him to remember his words on the night she'd admitted her struggles with PTSD to him, her fears, her shame. She paused to allow him to remember how much he told her he cared about her that night and how in falling into his comforting embrace and surrendering herself to his help and guidance, she'd revealed how much she cared about, trusted, and relied on him too. "You've helped me become the person I am today," she continued.

Greg smiled as a tear of gratitude and joy brimmed his eyes. "Aw, Jules," he reached up to gently pat her face. "You don't know how much you've shaped the person I am today, too."

Jules smiled and wiped a tear out of her eye. "Sarge, I'd like you to walk me down the aisle at my wedding," she finally got out.

Greg's eyes grew wide in surprise and joy as the biggest of smiles lit his face. "Really, Jules? You want ME to do that?"

She just returned his huge smile and nodded her head quickly and vigorously.

"I'd be honored," Greg answered as he stood-up and pulled her into one of the big bear hugs she'd become accustomed to from him from her stint in PTSD therapy.

As they stood in the middle of the conference room hugging while emotional tears of joy and gratitude touched both of their faces, the rest of Team One walked in behind them.

"Oh my God, Boss! Did Jules say yes to you too?" Spike asked in an affected voice of wonder.

Sam did a double take between Greg and Jules, and Spike and reached out to punch the techie's arm with a look of disapproval.

"No, you goof!" Jules laughed out as she wiped a tear from her eye and broke away from Greg. "Sarge said yes to ME!"

"Oh my God, Jules," Raf began, playing along with Spike's joke. "You're leaving Sam for Sarge?"

"Not after the display _I_ saw this morning," Ed said under his breath.

Greg snorted, but then smiled to his team. "I'm walking her down the aisle, you geniuses!" he answered playfully.

The room erupted into cheers of, "That's GREAT!" and "Good for you, Boss!" and, "Can I be the flower-girl?" until Greg started motioning the team to settle down, his joyful smile never leaving his face.

"Alright, guys, alright," he began to the group at large. "Since we're all here now, time for a briefing?" he offered.

"You're gonna need fireworks to top that one, Sarge," Spike smiled as he sat down next to Jules.

Greg shook his head. "Who needs fireworks when you've got Team One?" He turned his head and smiled at Jules, and she was once again reminded of how glad she was that she had decided to stay on Team One.

**Additional Author's Note: **Hahaha, Jules' line to Ed is probably my favorite of the chapter…**Shiggity** would totally approve of that one…Also, I personally (you've heard this before) LOVE the Greg-Jules relationship. : ) Next Chapter: Papa Callaghan arrives. Sam will quiver…

**Please leave a review**. I always love to hear your thoughts and predictions : )

Happy Labor Day Weekend,

Eals


	4. Not THAT Talk, But The Talk

**Author's Note: **Hey everyone! Special thanks to everyone who's been reading, reviewing, and all that jazz this story so far. I always love to read your thoughts. Papa Callaghan has arrived! In the next couple of chapters you should make a drinking game out of whenever Jules says "Dad," as a warning (usually in relation to his abuse of Sam). It might be tricky, so just try it with apple juice first.

I don't own or have rights to Flashpoint, Bushmills Whiskey, Snidely Whiplash, or Guinness.

Defying Precedent

Chapter 4: Not THAT Talk, But The Talk

It was a little after 5 pm, and Jules found herself pacing slightly in the arrivals area waiting for her father to move past the secure area of the airport and come to baggage claim.

She didn't normally pace, ever. She was not a pacer. She was a cool, calm, confident sniper, negotiator, and profiler. All of her various tasks in the SRU entailed two main aspects: staying still and keeping her head. With the exclusion of the few months she had spent suffering from PTSD symptoms, she had never had a real problem with maintaining this personal order. Leave it to the arrival of her strong-willed, sometimes domineering father to completely through her off her game.

She forced herself to stop, stand still, and keep any of the fidgeting she had found herself non-consciously doing to a minimum. She could do this. And really, this whole thing was no big deal. She knew she was just psyching herself out, seeing problems where potentially none existed. It was just the uncertainty of it all that threw her.

She'd seen on the arrivals board that her father's plane had arrived about 10 minutes ago. She breathed in a deep, steadying breath as she thought about how she would see her dad for the first time in nearly 10 years…

Looking up at a crowd of people walking towards the flights' baggage claim terminal, she sighed. She saw several people stop even before they attempted to pick-up their luggage to find their loved ones, smile brighter than the stars in the night's sky, and hug them as if they'd just arrived home from a trip to the moon. She so desperately wished she could have had that easy, familiar, not awkward reunion with her father, but she really wasn't going to hold her breath on that count.

She frowned and lifted onto her tip-toes to see over the heads of the last couple of people in the crowed from Ciaran Callaghan's flight. _Hummph_, she thought with a furrowed brow, _still no sign of him_. She shrugged, figuring maybe he'd stopped to use the washroom on his way out. That or he stopped at an airport bar for a shot of Bushmills Whiskey to steel his nerves. Damn, she wished she'd thought of that…

"Need'n to get your eyes checked, darl'n?" she heard that old voice from her childhood and young adulthood question.

Turning to her left, she caught her first sight of her father in so many years. She was surprised to see that he'd aged a bit; his hair had transformed from just having a light dusting to being nearly completely grey, his familiar beard was changing from the salt and pepper shade she'd remember to a snowy white, and there were more distinguishing lines on his face. But when he smiled down at her, his hazel eyes still held that Emerald Isle twinkle, his familiar laugh lines still made his visage open and inviting.

She scoffed lightly. "Geeze, Dad. Stealth like that, you could'a been SWAT," she answered, then internally kicked herself for her verbal goof as she caught the slight flinch at the corner of his eyes. It probably wasn't the best idea to joke about the occupation that caused their long separation right off the bat. _Smooth, Callaghan_, she thought to herself self-deprecatingly. "I mean, I was waiting to spy you when you collected your bags…" she tried to recover.

Ciaran lifted up a relatively small carry-on bag. "Don't got much baggage to leave at your feet," he answered in explanation.

Jules chuckled and smiled at her father. "Now THERE's the understatement of the millennium," she teased him.

"Come here, little one," he opened one of his arms for a slightly awkward half hug. Jules was surprised to learn she didn't fit into his side in quite the same way she had the last time they had met. "Wow, Jules," he laughed softly as he pulled away and looked down at her. "Did ya shrink since we last met? I feel like I could fold you up and carry ya around in my pocket!"

Jules rolled her eyes. "You were the one who dropped me on my head and stunted my growth," she accused sardonically.

"Well," Ciaran shrugged, "we needed someone small enough to crawl through the nooks and crannies of the barn to capture any loose creatures."

Jules smirked to herself. If only he knew how often her small stature had been needed to crawl through tiny spaces no one else could fit through to get the job done in the SRU. Somehow she didn't think he'd approve of that little tidbit of information at this point.

"So, Julianna," her father began in a less jovial tone. "Where's this beau of yours?" he questioned as they began to walk out to her jeep.

Jules swore she caught him caressing his knuckles slightly as he asked this question.

"He's back at my house, Dad." She made sure to emphasize the word 'my' so as to signify the fact that they weren't technically cohabitating. They still had their own residences. The fact that Sam spent more nights then not at her home was immaterial to her cause. "I got permission to get off work early to pick you up, so he's just gonna meet us there."

Ciaran narrowed his eyes at his daughter. "When you said you work with him, you meant on the same team?"

Jules simply shrugged in reply.

"Julianna…" he said with disappointment. Jules rolled her eyes at his reaction. So there must have been some Priority of Life type code thing when he was on the force too.

"Don't pull a Toth on me, Dad," said dryly. Ignoring the look of ignorance on his face, she continued, "We were cleared by the Chief to be together. We're not breaking any rules or regulations," _anymore_, she added to herself at the end. She hid her smirk at this thought from her father as she opened the door of her car.

"So, darl'n," Ciaran began as he buckled his seatbelt. "What am I to call this young man? I have a feeling you find 'Pond Scum' or 'Junior' not that grand of a name."

Jules whipped her head towards her father to give him a one eyebrow raised, flat mouthed look as she tilted her head in annoyance. But then she jerked her head and smiled to herself for a moment. "Sometimes I call him 'Pretty Boy,' but," she sighed and grew serious, "Sam," she smiled at the thought of the man she loved. "You can call him Sam."

XXXX

As Jules placed her key in the lock to her townhouse, she heard her father 'hmmphh' behind her as he examined her Jeep more minutely in the light from the porch and street lap. "You really think this is suitable transportation, darl'n," her father asked as she opened the door and stepped back to allow him entrance.

Jules found herself rolling her eyes again. Fathers never thought their daughters' cars were ever safe enough. "Yeah, Dad. It's great. I only get whiplash from the inferior suspension twice a month."

Ciaran took her words seriously for a moment before he caught the sarcastic set of her face. "Whiplash is all fun and games until someone's head falls off, Jules," he matched her at her game.

Jules darkly shook her head at him with narrowed eyebrows, but stopped when she saw Sam approaching the two new arrivals from the kitchen. As her face lit into a smile at the sight of him, Ciaran looked up to view his daughter's fiancé for the first time. He scoffed slightly and leaned down to 'whisper,' "You're right 'bout the pretty boy thing," but still loud enough for Sam to hear.

The plastered smile on Sam's face dropped slightly at the man's words. Jules jumped in to diffuse the situation before Sam returned to the nervous wreck he'd been that morning.

"Dad, this is my fiancé, Sam Braddock. Sam, this is my Dad, Ciaran Callaghan," she offered introductions.

"Good to meet you, sir," Sam held out his hand and flashed his most brilliant smile.

Ciaran accepted his handshake, but as he did so, turned to Jules and said, "You didn't tell me he was a Lymie." Jules' eyes grew wide as she facepalmed at her father's words. "But, at least he has a firm handshake," he offered to Sam with one of his sparkling smiles.

Sam coughed to hide his discomfort. He was worried about making a terrible first impression with Jules' father, but he never imagined that poor first impression would come as a result of his name.

"Don't worry, Dad," Jules began with irony. "We'll name all the children after Irish Saints."

Sam smiled at the mention of children as Jules walked forward to stand beside him and Ciaran took a moment to study him more closely. He caught sight of the chain around Sam's neck.

"What's that there, Sammy boy?" he questioned pointing to the chain. "A bit'a jewelry around your collar?" He asked this question as if he was actually challenging Sam's masculinity. Sam stood-up straighter and squared his shoulders in a non-conscious act of defense.

Jules purposefully trailed her hand up Sam's chest slow and reassuringly, so as to help steady his nerves a little, until she reached his neck and pulled the chain out. "Dog-tags, Dad. Sam's a vet of the war in Afghanistan," she explained with pride.

"Hmmphh," Ciaran replied. "Thank you for your service, young man. That puts you back at square one," he conceded. Sam breathed a visible sigh of relief.

Jules began to lead the men towards the couch so that they could sit and chat a little, or rather, continue to have their awkward interrogation of a conversation.

The moment Sam's butt hit the couch, Ciaran started in again. "So, Sam. You ever heard of the Great Famine?"

As a look of dread and shock shot to Sam's face, Jules jumped in before this could go any further. "Speaking of famine, I'm famished! Gee, Sam, sweetie," she began and caught the look of confusion on Sam's face. '_Sweetie?_' he began to mouth to her in question. She flicked her eyebrows to signify she was just thinking on her feet. "Why don't you run out to that Tai place we like so much and get us some take-out. That'll give Pop and me a chance to catch-up a little bit more."

Sam smiled as he nodded his head and rose to his feet. "Sure, Jules. No problem." He smiled in thanks to her. The Tai place they liked so much was all the way across town and would give him a chance to collect himself, but most importantly, get away from the interrogations, or rather, just terror, of Jules' father. "Same order as always?"

Jules nodded and stood to walk him towards the door. "Just double it. They don't have the farmer portions Dad's used to at the Hat," she grinned at her father. Ciaran shrugged, but conceded this agreement.

"Catch you later then," Sam said to both Jules and her father.

However, Jules leaned up and kissed him deeply on the lips, saying, "Bye. Love you," just to him.

Sam gave a smile just to her as he pulled away and squeezed her hand as he left.

As the door closed, Ciaran huffed from his place on an easy chair behind Jules. "That little display of affection was just for me, wasn't it, little one?"

Jules turned and smirked a smile as she shrugged. "Well, a little was for Sam, but," her face turned exasperated. "YES! Yes of course it was for you!"

Ciaran's face was full of confusion at her act of psychological warfare. "But, why do that to your dear old Dad, Julianna?"

"YOU CALLED HIM A LYMIE!" Jules exclaimed as she shook her hands at him in frustration.

Ciaran scoffed. "You didn't really expect me to give the man who's stealing my daughter's innocence an easy time, did you?"

Jules rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "'Stealing my innocence?' You make him sound like he twirls a Snidely Whiplash mustache."

"Darl'n," he began with a smile, "'tis a father's job."

Jules sighed as she shook her head but still smiled at him. "I guess…" She chuckled a little. "Actually, Sarge wasn't all that thrilled when I started dating Sam either."

Ciaran's eyes sparkled in delight. "I think I might like this Sergeant of yours." He grinned mischievously.

She looked at him sitting on the couch alone in a relatively good, albeit teasing, mood. She figured now was as good a time as any to have that discussion of their differences with him. "You want a beer, Dad?" she offered.

Ciaran tilted his head as if she was a teenager offering him a drag of marijuana. "Julianna…"

"Dad," Jules began in the typical annoyance offspring always have when their parents treat them like they're still immature zygotes. "I'm 38 and carry a gun for a living," she said as proof of her maturity as she walked to the refrigerator for the beers.

Ciaran smiled when she returned and accepted her offering of a Guinness. "Yes, but you'll always be a little girl to me." He paused to flick his eyes up and down her height. "Literally in some ways…"

Jules chuckled and smack her father's shoulder as she sat down on the couch to the right of where he sat. As she sat down, she removed her fall coat and laid it on the arm of the couch.

As she did so, Ciaran caught a glimpse of the scar just above her elbow on her left arm. He sighed. Pointing to the offending mark, he commented, "Evidence that you've managed to not die yet, eh?"

Jules exhaled deeply. At least she didn't have to think of a segue to this discussion. "Yeah. But not without a valiant effort on my part," she scoffed.

Ciaran frowned. He found her attempt to make light of the situation in no way funny. "Is that the severed artery?"

"No, that's the scar marking the severed skin OVER the severed artery."

"Julianna."

"Yeah, Dad," she sighed, "that's where that was." He hadn't made any real accusatory statements pertaining to her job or how dangerous it was, so she figured she'd wait to make her position known. Wait until she'd gathered enough information about his state of mind to form a learned and valid argument on her part that might convince him to try to see things the way she did.

"Was that boy," Ciaran paused, "man, Sam, there?"

Jules thought back to the events of that day, how she found herself trapped in a locked lab bleeding out while anthrax spores filled the air. She thought about Sam's face behind the protective glass, his anguish and the anguish she felt in the months after for the pain he'd suffered that day. "All of Team One was there." She paused for a moment and looked down at her folded hands. "Well, except for Sarge. But he saw the whole thing on a video feed and was patched into our com link network." She thought of the fear in Greg's voice as he pleaded with her stay with him, how she apologized for failing him, but how he denied that supposed failure and just told her how proud he was of her. "It was a rough day all around," she looked up at him, "but not terrible. Because of the SRU, no one died that day. Justice was served against a fraudulent company manager and we managed to save both the hostages and the hostage taker who was a victim in his own right." She smiled at him, thinking about how Sam's actions, or rather, lack of actions towards her, had convinced their superiors of their ability to care about each other, but still do their job. She thought about how the day that had sent her into a tailspin a month later had actually been a success. How that day truly signified the importance and effectiveness of the SRU. "We did really good that day."

Ciaran looked deeply into her eyes. "But that was the trigger, wasn't it? What gave you the Post Traumatic Stress?"

Jules knew this question had deeper meaning than that which was on the surface. She knew her father was thinking about her mother and the feelings symptoms similar to the ones she herself had suffered had led to her ultimately taking her own life.

She closed her eyes and smiled as she shook her head slowly. "I don't regret a single moment of it," she revealed. "Not the PTSD I suffered through, and not my life in the SRU." She thought about all the good she and her team had done throughout her career in the SRU. She thought about all the lives they'd saved, all the tragedies they'd averted.

"Your mother," Ciaran began, but Jules cut him off.

"I'm not Mom, Dad." She thought back to all the epiphanies she'd had while fighting her PTSD. "That's one thing I learned from suffering through what I did. I'm not Mom. I'm my own person with a will and mind of my own. And I know that going through what I did, all the panic and loss of confidence, the inexplicable sorrow, just made me stronger." She thought about her team and what they meant to her. How they always supported her, especially on her darkest days. Especially Sam and Greg. "And one of the things that gives me that strength is my team. I know they'll always be there for me, even when I can't be there for myself. And if I hadn't been on Team One," she smiled to herself, "I never would have met Sam, whom I love more than I ever thought I could love anyone." Her smile turned to a bit of a prideful smirk. "And I'm also a damn good sniper and negotiator."

Jules was surprised to see tears beginning to form in her father's eyes. The only time she'd ever seen him cry was after her mother's death. "But you were shot and almost bleed to death and were poisoned." He reached out to cup her face. "You're my little girl, and," he sighed, "and you look so much like your mother." He shook his head. "I can't lose you too, Julianna."

Jules was surprised to find that she was beginning to mirror her father's tears. "I can't promise you that I won't, Dad." She reached up to hold the hand that still cupped her face. "But I can promise you that I'm living a life Mom would have been proud of. And if I die in this job," she smiled at her father reassuringly, "If I die in this job, I know it won't be in vain. I know it will be in the course of service to others. I know it'll have meant something."

Ciaran ducked his head. "I still don't like it. I'll never like it. I'll never understand why you choose this life you do."

"Aw, Dad," Jules began with a smile and slight head shake. "I'm not asking you to understand or even like it. I'm just asking you to accept it."

Ciaran dropped his hand and patted her knee. "That'll be hard for me, darl'n. I have trouble seeing how I can fit into this life you live…"

Jules let out a breath. She knew the only way she would be able to keep her father at least a little in her life was to do something all her negotiator instincts told her not to: to just ignore the problem that was causing so much strife. "You don't have to fit into that life, Dad. We don't have to talk about it. You can just see me as Jules your daughter and not Jules the cop."

Ciaran nodded, but paused before he began to shake his head. "I don't know how I'll fit into your life because I can tell your job defines so much of it. I don't even know if I'll be able to handle your wedding where I know I'll have to hear people talking about what it is you do every day and how it always threatens to take you away from me." He gave her an apologetic grin. "And if I'm that cowardly and unsupportive, I don't think I have the right to even be part of the service…"

Jules shook her head lightly. She knew this was a probable outcome of the problems between them, which they were only now discussing. It was one of the reasons she'd asked Greg to support her by walking her down the aisle. "You don't have to, Dad." She smiled at him. "You just have to stand at the back of the church and look dashing in a suit." She flicked her eyebrows at him in encouragement.

Ciaran chuckled. "I think I can swing that, darl'n."

Jules smiled and nodded, grateful for his concession. "Oh, and also, Dad," she scoffed lightly and laughed a bit. "You have to accept Sam."

Ciaran narrowed his eyes. "Now that might be ask'n a bit much, little one," he said in obvious sarcasm.

Jules rolled her eyes. "'Tis a father's job, I guess…"

As they both chuckled at this comment, Jules became thoughtful before making one last request. "And Dad?"

"Yes, Julianna," her father asked catching the serious set of her face.

"Can I just ask one more thing of you?" When he nodded, she continued, "You don't have to like or fully accept the job that defines who I am, but can I ask you to at least be proud of me?"

"Oh, Jules," her father pinched the dimple on her check just like when she was five years old. "With a strong will and ability to stand up for what you think's right, Even to ME," he widened his eyes for emphasis, "There's not'a way I could ever NOT be proud of you."

Jules smiled. "Like father, like daughter," she shrugged. She thought about how no, her father and her would not see eye to eye on the job she held and subsequently the way she lived her life. But at least they had agreed to disagree and maintain a relationship based on the simple, primal love and respect they held for each other. She knew it wasn't much, but it was enough.

**Additional Author's Note:** So what I was trying to do here was illustrate a situation where two people who love and respect each other don't see eye to eye on a significant topic, but find some way maintain a, albeit strained, relationship. I've seen these types of relationships in life and thought it would be plausible for Jules and her dad to have one of those. Next chapter, Sean comes back and Ciaran continues to toy with Sam. Yay!

**Please leave a review** and let me know how this chapter went. I'd especially love to hear your views Jules' and her father's talk.

Later gators,

Eals


	5. Things Getting Real

**Author's Note:** Hi, everyone. Yeah, sorry it took so long to get an up-date of this story out. There are several reasons why I was taking some distance from it, most of all real terrorist attacks that angered me and just made me reluctant to want to write a story based on fake ones. Anyway, thanks to all who have been reading, reviewing, following, and placing this story on favorites. Fair warning that there are several references to _Metaphysical Marathon_ in this chapter, so if you're confused about some of the Sean-Jules dialogue, that's probably why.

I don't own or have rights to Flashpoint or anything that may be copy-righted in this chapter.

Defying Precedent

Chapter 5: Things Getting Real

When Sam had come back with their Thai diner the night before, Jules was sure he was surprised to find both her and her father slightly subdued. Jules herself knew it was on account of their rather deep and long avoided conversation about the reasons for their estrangement and what it meant for any future relationship she and Ciaran Callaghan would have in the future. And Jules was sure Sam was thankful for the two Callaghan's relatively calm and sedated attitudes, no matter how or why they were engendered, because, except for one pointed passive aggressive jab about how it was curious that Thailand was one of the few countries that survived ever being colonized and subjugated by Britain, Ciaran had managed to refrain from taunting Sam anymore the rest of the night.

Shortly after they had all finished their dinner (Sam somehow providing mostly one-sided conversation about the fairly innocuous topic of this year's fall fashions (Jules had kept her mouth shut, but she had been afraid that if her father had been more engaged in the 'conversation' he would have asked if a man versed in fall fashions was really the right one for her)), Ciaran had claimed jet-lag (Jules was STILL trying to figure THAT one out) and asked to be shown to the guest room. Jules had smiled, offered to give her dad a brief tour of the house before showing him the already made-up guest room, and informed Ciaran that since he had had a few, Sam would be staying the night…"ON THE COUCH," she'd hastily had to declare and promise at the first sight of her father's renewed vigor in the form of a deep, dark, glare of righteous fury at the obvious thought of Sam 'defiling' his daughter.

Of course, in the middle of the night Jules had 'snuck' (she still kicked herself at the thought that she had had to 'sneak' in her own house due to her innate fear of her father and his judgment of her morality) down to the living room and gave a half smile of apology as she guided a half awake Sam up to finish the night in bed where he would prevent having to be on disability for getting a painful back ailment.

It was here that she found him in the morning as she rose, kissed the corner of his mouth in greeting, and continued to get ready for her morning run with Sean.

"Mmmm," Sam bumbled as the kiss brought him to semi-consciousness.

Jules smiled at his early morning innocence. "Sorry," she frowned in faux contrition. "I didn't mean to wake you. Go ahead back to sleep." She whispered her words as she leaned down to kiss his forehead in farewell. "I'm just up early to meet Sean in the park for a few miles."

Sam seemed to nod at her words and began to turn back over to continue his slumber when he seemed to come to his senses about something and shot upright in bed as if he'd somehow sleepwalked his way into a bear trap. "YOU'RE LEAVING ME?!" he whisper-shouted. The undeniable subtext of 'with that insane farmer who knows how to shoot and probably somehow managed to pack his shillelagh in his size regulation meeting carry-on bag, and oh God, THIS IS STARTING TO SOUND LIKE THE PLOT OF A B-HORROR MOVIE!' obvious to Jules in his harsh and frightened, yet soft voice.

Jules rolled her eyes. "For God's sake, Sam! He's not ACTUALLY gonna hurt you!" She gripped his shoulders to steady him and calm him down as best her simple touch could. "I told you he's just testing you and playing with you. The man's like a wild cat, Sam," Jules paused to think about this analogy before half smiling and jerking her head to the side at her own use of simile. "He'll only attack you if he smells fear."

Fear still in Sam's eyes, Jules leaned in to give him one last soft kiss before breaking contact and turning to leave for her run with Sean.

"Jules…" Sam said in a pleading voice while attempting to influence her with pouty, puppy dog eyes.

Jules sighed and turned back to face him. "Just talk to him, Sam. The man has the gift of the gab and respects anyone who has the same."

Sam nodded confidently, then responded, "About what?" with consternation and confusion.

Jules snorted softly and shook her head. "Anything but fall fashions…"

XXXXX

Jules relished the feel of the crisp autumn air as it blew past her face and through her pony-tailed hair as she picked-up her pace slightly in an attempt to beat Sean to their meeting place and thus having bragging rights. She thought of how great it would be to have metaphorical Mr. Chuckles back in her grasp after Sean had been claiming ownership of the imaginary sock puppet therapy sock puppet for over a week now (!). But more so, she knew that if she was being honest with herself, she was really picking up the pace for the sheer freedom of it, the feeling of controlling her own actions and destiny. Freedom of action and thought was something she had come to cherish more than any time ever in her life after her brief, yet eternal feeling, struggle with PTSD and the anxiety and constraints wedding planning and seeing her father for the first time in nearly a decade had engendered.

She was also thankful for the freedom being with Sean would afford her. The traditional, avoidant dance they used to share with each other in the early days of their friendship long over, she knew she could talk to him openly and without judgment about anything in her heart or on her mind. Sure she loved Sam more than anyone in the world, but there were certain things she never wanted to burden him with and times when she needed to work out stresses she was having with him with a third party before those stresses bubbled up and burst into unnecessary and completely avoidable circumstances of misunderstanding.

Turning the last bend into the park and at her and Sean's habitual meeting place, she came to a stop and breathed in a large lung full of fresh morning air. She looked around and smiled at the thought that she'd somehow managed to beat Sean to their place of meeting. Her smile deepened, because now she was sure that he wasn't just setting his alarm clock earlier and beating her to their runs just so that he could make uncouth jokes about her being 'stuck in bed' with Sam or asking to check her neck for hickey—he means 'vampire'—marks on her neck. God how sometimes she wished he would just get up the guts to ask Nat (or at least SOMEBODY) out on a date…

As she watched the sun begin to peak its way over the horizon, she leaned down to pick-up a freshly fallen leaf. It was a gorgeous yellowish-orange just beginning to curl-up at the edges; essentially, it was the beauty and perfection of fall foliage at its finest.

_Hmm, maybe a fall wedding_, she mused to herself. _It'll definitely narrow down the type of dress I should_—_Oh dear GOD!_ she berated herself. _This wedding planning is even invading my tranquil morning run now!_

"I was JUST thinking that if we were still in the Nut House those fallen leaves would make a BEAUTIFUL material to work with in emotionally expressive diorama class too (!). One mind, Callaghan, one mind."

Jules smiled as Sean's familiar voice broke her out of her wedding panic stricken reverie and looked up to see him moving his right pointer finger quickly between the two of them in a gesture of camaraderie.

She dropped the leaf she had been studying off the beaten path and rose to meet Sean with a sad smile. "That would never happen. Carly (with a 'C' (!)) totally nixed emotionally expressive diorama class in the assembly we had before the one where Todd became a guest speaker."

Sean couldn't help but laugh at Jules' reference to the man who had held the rehab center they were in hostage, forcing Jules to negotiate everyone to safety and effectively gain her confidence in herself back in the process.

Sean shook his head and began to run in line with Jules. "You know, even though there was that whole thing about Todd shooting me and everything, I still enjoyed his presentation more than the 'Astrogers' marathon we had been subjected to up to that point."

Jules snorted. "Oh, you're just saying that because your heroic actions earned you a kiss from Carly."

"No I'm not, Callaghan!" Sean responded in mock annoyance. "Todd's voices had me on the edge of my seat!"

Jules frowned involuntarily at the thought of having to talk down a mentally unstable man on a psychotic break before she smiled at the thought of the absurdity of Sean's statement. "Yeah, guess they were an interesting third character in our one act piece of performance art."

"That's the kind of emotional growth I want to hear from you, Jules," Sean praised as if she was a troubled middle schooler in need of the validation of a gold star.

"So," he began on another track. "How's life with Q?" His question was light hearted, but Jules could hear the well concealed concern in his voice. Her heart melted a bit at the thought of Sean's true friendship and interest in her wellbeing.

"Ya mean aside from the fact that he insulted Sam's heritage and is probably torturing him as we speak about said heritage and his gall to marry the only Callaghan daughter?" Jules raised her eyebrows at Sean as if challenging him to ask her about her father's treatment of her fiancé.

Sean attempted to hide his guilty smile by biting his lip. "Actually," his smile turned full, "yes, please!"

Jules rolled her eyes but chuckled darkly. "Well, I'd be lyin' if I said it hasn't been entertaining to watch Sam squirm under Dad's judging gaze." She thought about her own subconsciously derived taunts of him while she hummed the 'The Same Old Shillelagh' on their way to work the previous morning. She thought how it was a little disconcerting how she didn't feel very guilty over her or her father's actions…She frowned. Well, maybe she did feel a little guilty. "If Dad goes too far, though, I'll be sure to rein him in."

Sean scoffed at her almost bravado declaration. "Sounding a bit confident there, aren't we Jules?"

Jules thought of her strong willed father and his ability to hold and maintain the silence between them for a decade. Her face pouted in slight supplication. "I'm smart, Sean," she said as if trying to convince herself. "I'm sure I'll be fine taking on my own father…"

Sean turned his head, a precarious action as they were now running on a part of the trail with some well hidden obstructions that one should keep on the alert for, and raised an eyebrow at Jules. "Yep, that's the kind of confidence I expect from a long time member of an elite SWAT team," he said with heavy sarcasm.

Jules saw a tree root sticking out of the path and resisted the urge to just let Sean trip over it as a retort to his teasing, but sighed for a brief second before shooting out her hand and pulling him away from that potential path of blunder.

"Whoa!" Sean exclaimed as he avoided the root that would have undoubtedly sent him sprawling.

"Elite SWAT team reflexes, O'Brian," Jules teased as she let go of his arm and continued to run forward with ease.

Shaking his sudden shock off, Sean realigned himself with Jules and continued their conversation. "I concede to your Kung Fu reflexes, sensei," he responded with minimal contrition. "So, things between YOU and your dad okay?"

Jules raised an eyebrow and turned her head to feed it to her best friend. "Nice. Work. With the 'subtle,' O'Brian," she drew out her response. "But," she stopped speaking to really think about his question.

It was true that she and her father hadn't had the easiest conversation in the world the previous night, but they had come to an understanding that both of them could live and be at peace with.

Sean waited patiently for Jules' real response, and she rewarded him by showing him the shadow of a smile from her profile. "Yeah," she finally said as her smile turned real. "Yeah, we're good. I mean," she paused to half smirk at Sean, "it's not like we're gonna be takin' a sailing trip around the world together, but things are good between us."

Sean jutted out his lip and nodded sarcastically. "Good," he jerked his head to give her a clear nod. "I believe I was slated to be the only member of the Good Ship Callaghan for the around the world journey."

Ignoring any disgusting innuendo (intentional or otherwise), Jules kept her head facing forward, but shifted her eyes at Sean while her mouth flat-lined. "There is no way in the world I would ever share a bathroom with you for any extended period of time."

"Define extended period of—"

"Hey," Jules cut him off before she would have to follow through with her sardonic remark. Sean was after all in the Army. She was sure she'd probably rather share a washroom with him than a perpetual man-boy like Spike, bless his little heart. "You want to meet him?"

Sean looked confused for a moment. "Your ship mate for your metaphorical around the world journey?"

Jules sighed at Sean's obtuseness. "You've met Sam, doofus. I meant my Dad."

"Q?" Sean asked brightly. "Hell, yeah! I've been wanting to ask a tech expert on how to re-configure my Audi into a flying car with aquatic capabilities and jet busters for the longest time (!)!"

Jules didn't even try to restrain herself as she stuck her arm out to smack him in the head.

As Sean, "Ouffed. Hey JULES!" Jules turned them around on the path to lead back towards her townhouse.

"Fair warning, O'Brian," she said as she did so. "This man has seen every episode of every Star Trek and will keep you under lock and key 'geeking out' worse than Spike if you mention any references to it." She nodded her head to show her seriousness. "So unless you want to get fired from that nice, cushy job Steve got for you, keep your sarcasm in check."

"Aye, Captain," Sean couldn't help responding. The look on his face obviously told Jules that he was surprised when she not only didn't smack him again, but laughed at his joking reference.

The two friends continued to run with their normal banter.

When they were less than a quarter mile from Jules' house, and during the middle of one of Jules' rants on wedding planning, Sean asked, "Hey! Can I wear my sword?!" with sheer, unbridled excitement.

Jules snorted. She knew that not only did Army enlisted men NOT have swords on their uniforms, but that there was no WAY any sane superior officer would give one to a goof ball like Sean. "You don't have a SWORD!" she responded through her guffaws of laughter.

Sean nodded his head in assurance. "Oh, I have a sword. It may not be part of my uniform, but I have a sword, BABY!"

Jules laughed so hard, she thought she might have been in danger of laughing up a lung. Visions of Sean totting around a plastic sword on his belt of the vintage generally seen on children's pirate costumes or ones sold in Civil War battle field gift shops danced in her head. Sean simply smiled at the mirth he managed to induce in his friend.

Jules calmed down when they arrived at her house, a large smile still evident on her face, as she brought out her key to open her front door.

As she cracked the door open, Sean and her ears' were immediately welcomed by the sound of her father asking, "So, Sam. What do you think of the Reformation?"

Sean snorted in delight at Jules' father's brazen and challenging question as Jules' eyes grew wide imagining the color fading out of Sam's face at such a question.

She flung the door open quickly, revealing herself and Sean and saving Sam from having to stumble through an answer. "Hey, DAD! Good morning!" she greeted with her most cheerful tone and smile.

Ciaran took in the sight of the unfamiliar man standing with a slight sheen of perspiration beside his daughter and narrowed his eyes.

"Oh, Dad, this is Sean O'Brian, a good friend of mine," Jules acted quickly to diffuse any of her father's potential notions. "Sean, this is my father, Ciaran Callaghan."

Ciaran seemed to smile at the mention of Sean's name. As he shook Sean's hand in greeting, he leaned towards his daughter and asked in a 'private' voice that was loud enough for all to hear, "What? You couldn't marry the good Catholic boy?"

Sam blanched as Sean kept a completely straight face, only smiling slightly as he replied, "Actually, I'm Reformed Jewish."

Ciaran seemed stunned by this revelation, but the fact that Jules snorted and began to laugh loudly, causing Sean to break his straight face beside her, brought a genuine eye-twinkling smile to Ciaran's face.

"He's a wit, this one," Jules' father said as he brought his hand up to lightly cuff Sean's ear. "I like a man with a bit 'a humor in him," he seemed to say in Sam's direction, even though Sam was half a length behind him.

"Yeah, well, Sean does weddings and Bar Mitzvahs," Jules began with obvious sarcasm, "but he really does have to be getting to his shift as an EMT."

"Right," Sean smiled and began to turn towards the door. "When I signed up for EMT training, I thought it was actually ET training, but, well, I guess I'm glad I don't have to ride my bike across the moon every night or deal with government conspiracies. Plus," he continued as Jules facepalmed beside him and both Ciaran and Sam seemed genuinely concerned about his mental health, "shift work really isn't as bad as they say, eh Jules?"

"I'll see ya later, Sean," she said by way of farewell as she 'gently guided' him out the door.

When the door was fully shut, Ciaran shook himself from whatever notions his brain was conjuring and replied, "Colorful boy, that one."

Jules smirked to herself and quickly jerked her head. "Yeah, well, they say the War went to his brain, but I'm pretty certain God just made him that—"

"Hey, Sweetheart," Sam broke in. "I was hoping to take a shower before work. You think you can show me where the towels are?" he asked with all the eagerness of wanting to get as far away from Jules' father as soon as possible.

"Towels, eh?" Ciaran asked with a look of, 'As if you don't know where the towels in my daughter's house are and haven't been stealing her innocents for God knows how long, you sniveling little snot.'

"Right, yeah!" Jules smiled a bit too brightly as she led Sam towards the stairs and up to her (their) room. "I'll be down in a minute, Dad. Just check out the morning paper or catch Sports Center."

As Sam and Jules entered their room, the fear and torture Sam had obviously been trying to hide (unsuccessfully) descended in all its entirety onto his face. "That man HATES me!" he whisper-shouted.

Jules sighed. She knew that statement wasn't true in the least, but she could understand where Sam had gotten that idea from. "Yeah, I heard the whole Reformation inquisition." She flinched for a second at her poor word choice.

Sam seemed to be oblivious to this slip. "Not just that, but ALL MORNING, JULES!" Panic rose to Sam's face. "Even when he was fixing his morning coffee and not even really talking to me."

When Jules looked confused at Sam's vague complaint, he continued. "He was signing 'Oh Danny Boy' softly, but, I SWEAR, JULES!" Sam looked genuinely frightened, "he was saying 'Oh SAMMY Boy!'"

Jules smiled and snorted despite herself and her desire to lessen Sam's fright. "Pulling the old serial killer routine again…" she almost said to herself.

Sam looked at his fiancé in exasperation. "This isn't funny, Jules!"

Jules calmed her visage and stepped forward to grab Sam's face between her two hands. "No, it is. You just don't see that because you're trying to make the kind of impress on my father that's impossible," she openly profiled him.

"What kind of impression is that?" he asked in honest confusion.

Jules chuckled softly and leaned up to kiss his forehead. "A good one," she said as she pulled mere inches away.

Sam leaned his forehead against hers. "Why do I REALLY have to do this, Jules?"

Jules pulled away to smirk at him. "The same reason I had to sit through your father's 'why women shouldn't be snipers' speech. It's just dealing with in-laws, Sam."

Sam pouted a little, even if his face did portray acknowledgement of the wisdom of her words. "You COULD make it easier, though."

Jules kissed his lips before pulling away and smirking. "Yeah, I COULD, but…"

"Jules," Sam groaned.

"Let Nat plan the wedding," Jules shot back.

Sam narrowed his eyes. "Ever the negotiator," he said nearly under his breath.

"You asked ME to marry YOU. Get used to it, buddy," she responded in all sincerity.

He narrowed his eyes just a fraction more before smirking softly and pulling fully away from her and crossing his arms on his chest. Things just got real. "Fine," he said with the subtext of 'this is a negotiation, soooo.' "Natalie can plan the wedding, but you still have to pick the dress."

Jules tilted her head in disbelief. "What? Really, Sam?"

"You heard me," Sam responded smugly.

Jules narrowed her eyes. "Helping you out with my Dad CAN be a relative thing…"

Sam just nodded in confidence. "Let's look at it this way, Jules. Do you really want to be walking down the aisle with Lady Di's wedding train?"

Jules eyes grew wide and her face reflected the panic Sam had worn earlier in their conversation.

"Dear, God!" she responded in genuine fear. "Where the Hell are those wedding magazines?!"

Late that Night in Downtown Toronto

Anti-Terrorism Unit Officer Jax Smart nodded to his team beside him as he readied to give the signal to the SWAT clad officers in front of him the go ahead to bust down the door of a suspected terrorist cell. He and his team had worked tirelessly to find and subdue any real or potential threats to national and local security in the years since 9/11 and he was confident they would do the same on this night.

With confidence in his convictions and his team's capabilities, he signaled the ram crew in the lead of the raid group to commence entry.

Once the door was down, the ATU team, Jax close behind his heavily armor clad cover man, swarmed through the apartment made terrorist cell in a well-rehearsed and fluid motion. "ATU! Come out with your hands up!" all the members of the team shouted as they flooded into the cell.

Lights bright and guns poised, all the men of the raid team froze when they caught sight of one man with a trigger held out in his hand and a bomb strapped to his chest standing brazenly in the middle of the front room. Fear immediately rose within Jax.

The suspected terrorist smirked at the heavily armed men in front of him. "It doesn't matter that you infidels found us now," he began in a calm, confident tone. "The plan is already in motion."

As Jax watched the man with the bomb strapped to his chest raise his hand dramatically, he instinctively shouted, "Get out! Get OUT!"

…But his warnings came all too late. A split second after Jax's final words of service rang out, the terrorist pressed the detonator switch held in his hand and the apartment the raid team had entered less than a minute before was ignited in a fiery blaze.

**Additional Author's Note:** Hey, LOOK! There actually IS a plot (!).

**Please leave a review** and let me know what you think of this chapter.

Thanks for reading,

Eals


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